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by peaceloveandjocularity, stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: After Korea, Charles hears a familiar tune that brings everything painful back to the surface.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





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Three words. 

It took exactly three words. 

She didn’t stutter once as she spoke them across nearly 800 miles of phone lines to a man she had never met.

“Charles needs you.” 

***

Honoria Winchester opened the door. Klinger was not surprised by her height, her Bohemian fashion sense, or her beauty, but her eyes hurt him. He’d worn that look before - and over the same man he’d come here to help. She filled him in quickly. It had been a bad week at the hospital - lots of young people dying unexpectedly. Neither of them had to do much soul-searching to think why such a thing would trigger the stoic surgeon, but it hadn’t ended there. Honoria, in clear distress, described her brother’s anguish over a song he’d heard while shopping. She didn’t mention that said shopping had occurred in a fabric shop that had become a sort of therapeutic space for Charles; he ran his fingers over velvets, bolts of brocade, reams of cambric. She knew damn well who he was dressing in them in his mind, but the times she had broached the subject had resulted in his flashing her so betrayed and agonized a look she hadn’t dared do it often. But she  _ had  _ his letters. She  _ knew _ . 

“He collapsed, Sergeant. Right in the rain! They t-thought he was having a h-heart attack!” 

He held onto her cold hands. It probably wasn’t proper, but if she had known to call him, she probably knew he was no threat to her honor. “Call me, Max, ma’am.  _ You  _ don’t think it’s anything medical?” 

“I-I think his h-heart is involved, but not like that.”

Klinger winced; he had no claim on Charles’ heart… but if someone else was breaking it, this was going to cost more than the price of his ticket. “I’ll try,” was all he could promise the blue-eyed girl whose life could never be bound to his. She led him to a doorway, hugged him to wish him luck, and walked away. 

Klinger knew the difference between life and death. He had witnessed Death chasing living light from a pair of eyes… but this… 

“Major?”

Charles’ head snapped up - but there was something deeply wrong in the expression. A sneer? Then the look fell away and Charles blinked. “You’re in Asia,” he murmured. “I left you there with Mulcahy, with that girl…”

“I helped Soon-Lee find her family,” Klinger agreed, voice gentle in the face of so much that made no sense. “I helped the Father find homes for some orphans, too.”

“You weren’t here.” 

“I’m here now.” He tried to get closer to the taller man, but Charles resisted this, backing up as though threatened by his presence. Klinger persisted, but he didn’t read the room correctly and now  _ he  _ was cornered, facing down eyes unexpectedly dark with fear and grief. He braced for the blow he felt certain was coming. He didn’t even notice it, but his hands went up to his chest, fingers splayed to show he wasn’t dangerous. 

Realizing he had just threatened - however unintentionally - the one person he had never intended to scare (he’d seen Klinger scared plenty in Korea), Charles retreated to drop into a chair. 

Klinger stepped out of the corner. He’d been in many such tough spots. He’d taken the beatings and moved on. He’d been prepared to do it this time, too. A punch - even from those huge hands - couldn’t have been worse than Charles’ silence, this living death. 

“Just hit me if you need to,” he said quietly. “It’d be better than this.” 

This was not the grenade Charles had expected to have lobbed at him (the second of the day if one included  _ that _ song). 

Klinger went on - and where the hell had he  _ come _ from exactly? Maybe it  _ was  _ Hell that had caused him to appear as if by magic; maybe he’d made some Faustian bargain… the devil knew he’d much rather have the man before him than any number of Helens… 

"God, Charles, just  _ talk _ to me. I grew up in Toledo, I can take a punch. I got beat in Korea; I can handle it. But this is making me sick to my stomach. Tell me how to help.” 

“When did you get beat up in Korea? Where was I?”

His genuine confusion was, Klinger found, strangely hard to bear. “Really? That's the question you're asking? You're asking me when and not how often? I wore dresses, Major!” 

“You should have told me.” The idea that there had been bruises that he could have tended, maybe worse, was enough to choke him.  _ Another sin on my head. Another failure. Is there no end to them?  _

Klinger sounded disgusted. “This isn’t about me. I managed to fix myself up pretty good. I didn’t need to ask for help.”

“Not even from Pierce? From Hunnicutt?”

“I took care of it. I watched in OR, you know. I can do stitches if I have to - and not just in a dress.” 

“And in telling me this, was your intention to make my stomach as ill as yours?”

“No! I just want to help you! Hard as it is for you to believe, people care about you.  _ I _ care about you. So does Honoria. She wouldn’t have paid for my ticket, otherwise- though that might have been from your account.”

Charles laughed through his misery. “Yes, she’s very good at that. I’ve bought myself a number of wonderful presents that way.” He looked up then. “I would never harm you, you do know that?”

“You are ‘harming’ me right now! You won’t let me in. You won’t let me help.”

“Just as you never let me help with whatever you suffered in Korea? We sound a matched pair.”

“You didn’t  _ know _ about that stuff. If you had, there’s no way I could’ve kept you out. Just like there’s no way I’m leaving until you tell me what you need.” So saying, he crossed the room and entered the surgeon’s lap as if he had perched there dozens of times before. 

“What are you doing?!” Winchester demanded.

“Calm down. I slept beside you in that storm and you didn’t have a fit about it.” 

“It was cold,” the surgeon defended himself.  _ And you were very warm and it took every bit of decency I possessed and some I downright bartered for not shove my hand between your legs and make you mine right there.  _

“Yeah, well, it ain’t exactly warm in here, either.”

Long silence stretched. In it, Charles could hear the beat of Klinger’s heart. “You have a very nice heartbeat. Right within the healthy range for an adult male,” he murmured. 

“Much as I appreciate the free check up, Major, you ever listen through your own stethoscope? How's  _ your _ heart doing?”

“It’s broken, I think,” the surgeon admitted quietly.

Klinger didn’t flinch, even though listening to those words and saying what he had to say next was worse than any black eye. “I think so, too, if you want a second opinion. Tell me how. Better, tell me who did it and I'll tell them how stupid they're being.” He affected a jaunty, winning tone. 

“They can’t hear you,” Charles protested and Klinger thought they were on a good, solid track at last. Some society dame had gone and turned the Major’s head and he felt bad because he hadn’t been able to win her. Well, he could help with that! 

“I can be pretty convincing, Major - and loud. C'mon. Maybe they just don't know all the things I do. Once they know, they'll fall at your feet.”

“They're dead, Max. They won't hear you."

_ Fuck _ . 

Then the story of the musicians poured out and Charles- who hadn’t done so in decades - sobbed. Klinger could not fix death, so he just held on, his body a bandage for all that was broken. 

When the Major had quite cried himself out, he became docile enough for Klinger to lead to bed and settle. He sat on the bed’s edge until he was sure that Charles slept. Then he descended the stairs and found Honoria at the kitchen table. She gave him a weary smile when he entered. 

“C-coffee, Sergeant? Tea?”

“Max,” he corrected quietly. “I was never much of a Sergeant or a clerk - your brother can tell you, ma’am. And thank you, no.” 

She saw the tear tracks on his cheeks and knew she had done right.  _ I would have been here earlier if I had known he wanted me to be,  _ Klinger found himself wanting to tell her. But what was the use? 

“I think he’ll be okay now,” he said after a moment. “We all have some ugly memories.” He thought of Henry Blake, then, thought of Hawkeye and Margaret going missing… thought of Charles walking away without turning once. “They, uh, they break out sometimes.” He could have gone on. Sometimes they became nightmares… or things you had to avoid (loud noises in his case). 

She was smiling cryptically at him, a smile so strange that he believed it, at first, to be a play of light or shadow. “Sergeant, I c-could have called a-anyone that Charles served with. You do understand t-that?”

He nodded. “I figured I was closest. Well, closest and  _ not  _ Captain Pierce,” he amended. 

She giggled at that. “An impor-important consideration, cer-certainly. However, I called  _ you _ , because it is my un-unqualified opinion that my i-idiot brother will  _ never  _ be fine unless you ascend that st-st-staircase once more and t-take your place beside him.” 

She saw him try to make sense of her words by mouthing them back. Her smile widened. It was proper, wasn’t it? Charles was a thorough idiot when it came to romance - why should Klinger be any different? 

“S-sergeant, you didn’t ask me h-how long y-you’d need to be here, or why or a-anything at all. Ch-Charles told me you have a g-generous heart, but you w-wouldn’t you have  _ asked  _ if it was ab-about anyone e-else?” 

“Ma’am, are you asking me if I’m in love with your brother?” 

“Not at a-all. I already  _ kn-know _ you are. I knew y-years ago. As I kn-knew when  _ he _ fell for you.” She bent down then and kissed his dark head. “He’s hurting be-because of those aw-awful memories, I am sure. But also be-because he sees n-no hope for anything b-beyond them. P-prove him wrong.” 

She wanted to add, “And he can be terribly stupid, so just ignore that part,” but reasoned that since Klinger loved him and had been doing so since 1952, then he surely knew as much. 

Given her blessing, what else could he do? He stopped and looked back a few times, shaking his head, looking for strength. She just motioned him on. 

But, upstairs, Klinger’s courage failed him. He was happy - even eager - to help his friend, but didn’t Charles deserve more and better than him? He didn’t wake the worn out and world-kicked man. Charles had endured a very hard day, no matter what had triggered it; he deserved at least eight hours of uninterrupted rest. But Klinger did curl up on the foot of the bed to keep watch. If any nightmares came, they’d have to slip past him - and he’d been pretty good at guard duty. 

***

Someone shook his shoulder gently. “Wake up, Corporal. You cannot be comfortable like that unless you have no spine.” 

Klinger grudgingly left his dreams and let himself be tugged into a vertical position, head on a pillow. 

“You startled me,” Charles confided. “When I woke, I thought Honoria had gotten me a large breed of cat.” 

Klinger yawned. “She should. Cats stick around when you’re sad.”

“Like Corporals? I had expected you to be gone. Honoria had no right summoning you in the,”

Klinger covered his mouth. “Don’t start the day off by insulting the people who love you, Major.” 

“People?” said Charles into his palm. 

“I can name two - three if we get that cat. And I can go, too, if you want. But next time,  _ you _ call me if you want me and I’ll come. Promise.” 

A surprisingly strong hand caught his hip. “I… you… Max, don’t go.”  _ Ever.  _

Knowing eyes met his, held. “Not ‘til you say,” he promised, then added, “You shoulda told me over there, Major. I would have helped.” 

Charles trembled, mostly with disbelief at what he heard in that voice. “And if I had asked you, Maxwell Klinger, to come home with me? To be mine?” 

“I was always already yours, stupid.” 

“I suppose I deserve that, but didn’t you just counsel against beginning the day with insults to those who dearly love you?”

“You do, huh?” 

“Yes.” He drew him close, pillowed his head on his chest. “But if you would like proof, I have at least two pieces you may like.”

Dark, curious eyes regarded him. “Okay. I’m listening.” 

“First, there is a store on Third Street downtown. I have been visiting it since we parted in order to touch the reams of fabric there… and to imagine you in them.”

“Really?” 

“I can find you a sales girl or two to testify if need be.”

“It’s just hard to imagine, Major.”

“Love makes odd ducks of us all.”

“What’s the other thing?” 

Charles smiled; Klinger was not only as apt to curl his body into a comma as a cat - he was cat curious. “If you’d be so good as to reach into that nightstand, you’ll see.” 

Disentangling himself as little as possible, Klinger reached into the drawer, closed his fingers on velvet, yelped, and whirled to search Charles’ face. “Major?” 

“Say my name, beautiful. You’ll have to at the ceremony, so best start practicing.” 

Klinger tilted his face up to be kissed. “It’s illegal, Major.”

“Perhaps in the official sense, but I think we can make a happy life regardless.” 

“We could’ve before now. You didn’t have to fall apart to get me.” 

“I doubt that I am entirely done. What you said about being hurt… over there… Max, I didn't even  _ notice _ !” 

“Major, didja forget what you got sent over there  _ for _ ? You were up to your elbows in ruined arteries! You didn’t sleep for days at a time.”

“That’s really no excuse for not seeing my best friend, Max.” 

“You could have called me that, you know. And called me at all when we got home.” 

“You knew.” 

He had but he still liked hearing it. “We both have some broken places, Major. We’ll just do our best to make ‘em fit together, okay?” 

Charles traced down his arms, his back. Somehow, odd pair that they were, they  _ did  _ seem to fit together. And those old hurts, deep as they were, couldn’t distract him from Klinger’s warm touch and dark eyes. “Together,” he agreed, knowing it was, from now on, how they would face the world. 

Later, he confided, “Max, you will, perhaps, understand a bit more about the depth of my affection when I tell you that I would endure, happily, any number of public embarrassments to feel you like this.”

“Not necessary, Major. And don’t worry, okay? We’ll find your way back to your music again.” He didn’t know how to articulate it, but he thought that too much had already been taken from this proud, lovely man. Charles deserved a full life; Max would do all that he could to give him one. 

***

One year later, after much amateur detective work, Klinger had (thanks to Father Mulcahy who had remained in Asia) learned all he could about the lost musicians. In the tiny chapel attached to Beacon Hill, unused for generations, he made these lost souls a memorial and took his husband’s hand as they bid them farewell. 

Charles wept for these gentle souls that should never have been touched by war. He wept for orphans and the boys who had died on the table. He wept for Max, whose dresses had not always been enough to shield him, and for himself and the way he had fought and denied his own truths. And with tears in his lashes and a loving hand twined tight in support, Charles Emerson Winchester III finally came entirely home. 

End! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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